Chaos Theory
by nowarning23
Summary: "I've been trying to find you for six months now." "Why?" "Because I was thinking I could use a good right-hand man, and I'd like that right-hand man to be you." One-shot/Outtake, set in the To Lose My Life/Til Kingdom Come verse. Dom visits Arthur at Harvard.


**Disclaimer: None of this is mine, it belongs to Warner Bros and other creative outlets and people, I don't intend to profit from this in any way. I am just trying to curb my own writer's block.**

Tuesday, December 10, 2002: Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University: Widener Library: Arthur

It was just after three o'clock, but you wouldn't have known that judging by the poor amount of light coming in through the windows. Snow was piled high on the ground, and more was falling, swirling in the wind.

Arthur was sitting at a small table near one of these windows, surrounded by heaps and stacks of books. He was working on a paper for his U.S. History class, and had gone to the library after his final class of the day with the purpose of not leaving until the paper was done. That had been an hour and a half ago, and Arthur was now polishing his essay, which he'd chosen to do on the growing materialistic culture of the United States following the 1950s.

He was sure his professor would be disappointed, recalling how Arthur had a gift for picking obscure and compelling topics for his essays. But Arthur hadn't felt creative in almost a full year. His legs seemed to throb at the thought and he paused in his proof-reading. He checked the clock again before reaching for his bag, realizing he could take a Vicodin now.

His hand had just found the small bottle of pills when a man sank into the chair across from Arthur. Arthur froze.

He knew this man, recognized him from the semester he'd spent in Paris three years previously. He studied the man, taking in his neat blond hair, his expensive gray suit and sky blue tie that almost matched his eyes perfectly. The man had brought with him a bag, which he dropped onto the floor near where Arthur had left his own book bag. They stared each other down.

Arthur spoke first, not even trying to conceal the shock in his voice: "Cobb. Dominic Cobb."

The man nodded in acknowledgement. "Hello, Arthur. How are you?"

"I'm fine," Arthur said, his reflex reaction. His legs seemed to hurt more at the lie, and Arthur rested his hand over his right thigh, his other hand still clutching the precious bottle of pain medication. "How are you?"

"Very well, thanks for asking," Cobb replied. "Mal and I are engaged."

"Oh, congratulations," Arthur said automatically. He really was happy for them; they hadn't been dating for long when he met them, but he wasn't surprised to hear that they were getting married. "When's the big day?"

Cobb shrugged. "Sometime next spring, I believe. It's more of her thing; I've been told to stay out of it. All I know for sure is that she wants to get married in Paris."

Arthur couldn't help but crack a smirk at Cobb's comments on his upcoming nuptials. "I'm sure it will be lovely."

"Me, too."

They stared at each other for another moment, during which Arthur waited for Cobb to say something, anything, to explain his sudden appearance. He'd never expected he would see Cobb at Harvard, nonetheless in the afternoon on a snowy Tuesday in mid-December. The campus was winding down in preparation for winter break, after all. But Cobb didn't do anything (except make Arthur feel underdressed in his dark jeans, Converse sneakers and black sweater) and Arthur couldn't stand his confusion.

"What are you doing here, Cobb?"

Cobb merely blinked. "I'm here to see you."

"Well, here I am," Arthur said slowly. He wanted Cobb to explain himself and leave, or at least look away from analyzing Arthur like he was a work of art, so he could take his pills.

"That you are," Cobb confirmed. "I've been trying to find you for six months now."

"Why?"

"Because I was thinking I could use a good right-hand man, and I'd like that right-hand man to be you," Cobb said. Arthur stared at him, as Cobb continued. "The last time we talked, three years ago, I asked you if you would ever consider… Professional dreaming, like what I do, and you said yes. I mentioned this to Miles, who told me I would be mad to not hire you, but that I should wait until you graduated from Harvard. You were a second year when I met you, so I assumed that meant you would graduate in May of 2002." He hesitated, piercing Arthur with his ice blue eyes. "Imagine my surprise when Arthur Zaleski was nowhere listed as part of Harvard University's graduating class of 2002. Why are you still here?"

"I went on a binge last semester," Arthur replied without a pause.

"Bullshit. That isn't like you."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I never said the binge I went on had anything to do with alcohol."

Cobb sighed. "I never would've pegged you as a fifth-year student, Arthur."

"Join the club," Arthur said, managing to keep the bitterness from his voice. Cobb seemed to pick up on it though, and he looked interested.

"What happened, Arthur?"

Arthur shut down. He didn't want to talk about what happened. He didn't even want to do what he knew many other veterans did, which was simply _show_ what happened. Arthur had plenty of scars that would've shut Cobb up, but he didn't want to dredge up any of them. He never looked at his body in the mirror, focusing solely on his head, which had recovered from the bruises. Sometimes he was just amazed at how his face had managed to escape any lasting injury. He wasn't sure how he could've coped if he couldn't even look at his face.

But there was _one_ thing he could do.

He pulled the pill bottle from his bag, maintaining his sharp gaze on Cobb the entire time. The older man looked down at the bottle, and Arthur felt a pang of morbid satisfaction at how the man's eyes widened, recognizing the drug label Arthur didn't bother to cover. Arthur unscrewed the cap and pulled out two tablets, tossing them down dry.

Cobb swallowed as Arthur did. "That's Vicodin. How do you have so many? And such a high dosage? I've never seen anyone…" He trailed off, as Arthur simply watched.

"I'm special," Arthur said distantly. "Cobb, I don't want to talk about why I'm still here. But the point is, I'm a current student, and I have a right to be here, and neither of those things apply to you. Why are you here? Do you have a job for me?"

"Maybe," Cobb said. "_I_ have a job, certainly. The president of an international company based in Paris would like me to go into the mind of one of his competitors and extract the competitor's plans for the upcoming year. The job is in February. You'd be paid handsomely, of course."

"And you want to know if I'm interested."

"Not just that," Cobb hedged. "I need to know if you can do it. You've never gone on an illegal extraction job before. I know you're brilliant; I don't need a shiny degree from Harvard or all those essays and problems I saw you make for your classes in Paris to know that. I know you understand everything about dreaming, and I know you can function in a dream world; I still remember some of the trips we took."

Arthur did too. Back when dreaming was fun, and not a reason for terror and torture…

"But what I don't know," Cobb said, oblivious to Arthur's dark thoughts. "Is how your other skills are. The more… extracurricular ones. The ones I really require for a point man."

"A point man," Arthur repeated, a smirk playing over his features as he considered the word and its connotations. "I thought you were looking for a right-hand man."

Cobb flushed slightly. "In the dream world, a point man is the equivalent of a right-hand man. And I guess I should be more specific. Mal is the one looking for a right-hand man."

"Okay, I'll bite," Arthur said, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You know I'm not the average architect," Cobb said.

"Right. You design the levels for teams to… utilize for whatever the job requires," Arthur said, eyebrows raised. "Which, of course, may or may not be legal."

Cobb nodded. "You do remember. Anyway, the team members vary considerably depending on what the job requires. Always at least two members; that's an unwritten rule. Someone needs to be able to escape in case something goes wrong. Anyways, after her graduation, Mal and I started working as a team. Sometimes she extracts, sometimes I do. More often than not, she's the forger-"

"The what?" Arthur asked, having not heard the term before.

Cobb grinned darkly. "Forger. What we call the person who takes on the appearance of another in the dream."

"How so?"

"It's complex," Cobb said. "Mal can describe it to you. I've never gotten the hang of it, but she's pretty good. Anyway, Mal will sometimes forge if the job requires, and that's when I'm the extractor _and_ the architect. We've done well like this, but this job requires more. Two levels, to be exact. We need someone to run point while we go under to the second level."

Arthur nodded once, happy he finally understood what Cobb was talking about. "You need me to keep the projections off you."

"Exactly."

"And that's why you need to know if I can shoot and fight," Arthur summarized. Cobb nodded again. Arthur sat back in his chair, flicking his pencil around in his fingers. He glanced out the window, watching the snow falling from the sky, swirling as the weather continued to worsen. He sighed.

"I don't know," Arthur murmured. He turned, looking at Cobb, whose face betrayed how surprised he was. "I don't know, Cobb."

Arthur got to his feet, and proceeded to stuff his books and laptop in his book bag. Cobb stood with him, obviously struggling to find the words.

"You're saying no?"

"I'm saying I don't know," Arthur said, tossing in his last pens and zipping the bag. He pulled his heavy coat on, raising the hood as he picked up his bag. He started walking, pulling his gloves on, while Cobb followed like an obnoxious shadow.

"Arthur-"

Arthur hurried down the stairs, noticing how many of the other students stared, puzzled at the sight of one of their own being urgently followed by a man several years older. Arthur could hear Cobb's breath, and knew he was close behind. He didn't say anything, reaching the front doors and opening them, stepping out to the bitter weather. His breath caught for a moment; it had to have been under twenty degrees.

The snow was still falling, having piled on the ground a foot high already. There weren't many students out and about; the only ones who were walked quickly, their faces covered against the snow, hurrying to class, one of the freshman dormitories or off campus completely.

Arthur continued his fast pace, headed towards the Red Line station just off of Harvard Yard, in Harvard Square.

"Arthur!" Cobb said, raising his voice. They were just outside of the front gates when Cobb's hand whipped out and grabbed Arthur's arm. Arthur couldn't help it; he reacted, a knee-jerk response to physical contact, the one ingrained in him by what had happened two years earlier.

He whipped around, yanking his arm from Cobb's grip and landing a punch on Cobb's cheek. Cobb stumbled, not having expected such a response. Arthur didn't give him a chance to retaliate, instead pushing the man away.

"Don't," he snapped brutishly. "Don't touch me."

Cobb gaped at him. "What's the matter with you?"

Arthur flushed, realizing his mistake. "Nothing, I'm fine. I just don't like people touching me."

"You didn't have a problem when you were in Paris," Cobb remarked.

"Yeah, well, I was a different person then," Arthur said before he could stop himself. Cobb's eyebrows, snowflakes entangled in them, rose sharply. Arthur sighed and spoke before Cobb could: "Please don't read too much into that."

"I'm impressed by your response," Cobb commented instead. "Fast reflexes. Exactly what I'm looking for."

"I can shoot, too," Arthur said. "And I can fight a hell of a lot more than that. I've spent years in dreams, I know more about them than the vast majority of the most professional dreamers. I can adapt and evolve. I'm a natural."

"You can research?" Cobb asked.

Arthur stilled. "Come again?"

"Part of the deal is you research our mark, and on occasion, the employer," Cobb explained. "Background is necessary if we're going into the subconscious."

Arthur nodded tightly. "Makes sense. Yes, I can research. Aside from the fact I'm a Harvard student, I understand the ins and outs of hacking." At Cobb's look, he sighed and added, "Military."

Cobb's face brightened in understanding. "I forgot about that. That's where the fighting and shooting skills come from?"

"Yes. That's how I got into shared dreaming in the first place, remember?"

"Of course," Cobb agreed. He blinked at Arthur, tucking in his coat around himself. "Does all this mean you're saying yes?"

Arthur hesitated, considering his words carefully. "When does it start?"

"I'd need you in Paris by February 4th."

"I graduate in December," Arthur said softly. He turned around, facing Cobb straight on. He looked at him, staring right into his icy blue eyes.

"I have a few conditions."

Cobb nodded. "Okay."

"Don't ask me what happened to me," Arthur murmured. "Don't try and find the information on your own. Because you won't find it, but I'll know you tampered. If I ever have a reason to distrust you, I'm out of there, no matter the consequences. If I leave, don't follow me. If I tell you to fuck off, fuck off. I function just fine on my own, and that's how I prefer to be. Understand?"

Cobb whistled. "That's a lot of conditions."

"Yes," Arthur said, not trying to sugarcoat it. "But you know what I can offer. You know what I can do."

Cobb nodded. "I do. And I think you're worth it." He smiled, a genuine smile that reached his eyes. He held out a hand, and Arthur took it in his gloved one.

"I'm looking forward to working with you, Arthur."

"Same here, Dom," Arthur replied. He appraised the man. "You look like hell. How about you come with me to my apartment and have a cup of coffee?"

Cobb started shaking his head. "I can't impose-"

"No, I'd like the company," Arthur said honestly. He wasn't much for social gatherings lately; he was so busy trying to recover. "Come on. I live just off Park Street, it's only a couple stops on the Red Line. You can tell me more about the job I just agreed to do."

"Well, alright," Cobb said. He and Arthur began to walk, more slowly this time. Even with the Vicodin, Arthur's legs weren't happy with the speedy gait he'd just put them through as he left the library. Cobb didn't comment, assuming the slower pace was because Arthur had relaxed somewhat. Which was also true. He smiled as a new thought occurred to him.

"I'm also curious as to how you wound up being engaged to Mallorie Miles," Arthur said, smirking. "And what Miles had to say." Cobb blushed, a sight Arthur could see even in the blurry snow, and Arthur laughed.

**I was going through some files on my laptop when I came across my rough drafts and outtakes from To Lose My Life and Til Kingdom Come, this among them. While a lot of them are nonsensical and pretty awful pieces of writing, I thought this one wasn't too bad and thought I'd share.**

**I also came across part of the next chapter of Endlessly, which I have absolutely ZERO MEMORY of writing. like at all. wut. anyway, I'm working on that, so it looks like that story will be continued after all.**

**hope all is well... x**


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